Digital cash
When beggars know better than to ask Any spare change The circulation long cut, barely any copper remains. The court is paperless The new king is contactless and the crumbled royal mint is a haunted house. When highstreet banks exist only in memory Or Wikipedia entries Like so many things, creepingly superceded; how they clung for dear life as the old reasons faded. The new blood hold their banks in the palms of their hands. When the last bundle is burnt replaced by numbers rarely seen; only on screens Who will mourn for cold, hard cash? Who will cry for bloody money?
